So I Married An Evil Overlord
by Aradia Ring
Summary: Ginny Weasley is your average witch. Except, of course, she‘s married to a Dark Lord. A Dark Lord in a bad mood. Uh-oh… Mama never said how to deal with your man in a homicidal rage. But Ginny might have an… idea. PG-13 for innuendo.


DISCLAIMER: This does not belong to me. Well, the mug does. The song, also, is The Masochism Tango by Tom Lehrer. Download it, it's fabulous.  
  
A/N: Many thanks to Sami, who tried to help me come up with a summary. And, as you can see, failed miserably. Please, review. And then go read my other stuff. they feel all sad, since no one has been reviewing them.  
  
  
  
So I Married An Evil Overlord  
  
  
  
Ginny Weasley was your average witch. Pretty enough, although nothing really special. She desperately loved anything strawberry-flavored. She was downright terrified of rabbits (only she knew why). And oh, yes, she was married to the personified memory of the most famous Dark Wizard in the last thousand years.  
  
At seven o'clock on the evening of Tuesday, June 3rd, 2003, said personified memory of the most famous Dark Wizard in the last thousand years, one Tom Riddle, came slamming into the living room, cursing violently.  
  
"Had a bad day, dear?" Ginny asked, not looking up from her copy of Hubby Likes The Whips and Chains: A Wife's Guide to Being Married to an Evil Overlord.  
  
"Damn those hero's sidekicks and their sleeves that they can hide extra tricks up!"  
  
Since Ginny had just come to Chapter Six: Venting and Aggressive Displacement, she decided to pause her reading and listen to her husband. "Tell me all about it, Tom."  
  
"I'd rather not." He muttered, flopping down in his chair and throwing a quick "Incendio!" at the cat. Ginny tsked and extinguished the animal with a wave of her wand.  
  
"I've asked you not to light up the housepets," she admonished him. "The animal shelter is starting to ask why we get a new cat every week. If you're going to play pyromaniac, ignite something inanimate."  
  
"Sorry," he said unrepentantly. Ginny looked her husband up and down.  
  
"I know what you need," she said suddenly.  
  
Tom caught the look in her eye, and raised his head hopefully. "A game of snake and chamber?"  
  
"Later. I'll be right back." She stood up from her chair and went into the kitchen, kissing Tom's forehead as she passed. He watched, wondering what she was up to. The handcuffs were in the cabinet right there. He heard her moving around the kitchen-one of only two rooms in the house Tom never entered, as a direct result of Ginny's insisting it be painted pale yellow. The other was the second-floor bathroom, which was entirely pale pink.  
  
"I ache for the touch of your lips, dear / But much more for the touch of your whips, dear / You can raise welts like nobody else-"  
  
"As we dance to the Masochism Tango," Tom finished with her. Ah, their song never failed to cheer him up, at least a little.  
  
She smiled broadly, and set a silver tray down on the coffee table. On it sat two mugs, one of which bore the letters WWSD? Which, of course, stood for, What Would Salazar Do? Tom's favorite mug, she must really want to cheer him up.  
  
Both mugs were filled nearly to the brim, with a rich brown liquid steaming and giving off a wonderful odor. The cocoa was topped with what looked like a veritable mountain of whipped cream. Ginny picked up the spare mug, and gestured to Tom to drink his own.  
  
He looked from the mug to his wife. "I can think of a much better use for that whipped cream," he said. She winked at him and took a sip of the cocoa, wiping away the moustache the cream left under her nose. Sighing, he lifted the mug, and promptly spilled the scalding hot liquid in his lap.  
  
"Oh for-" Tom let loose a string of curses that would have made a sailor blush. Ginny, however, was unfazed, as she had taught him most them. Tranquilly, she handed him a napkin, which he accepted with a scowl.  
  
"Try a Drying Charm, dear," she advised. Glaring, he left off wiping at his pants and muttered the spell.  
  
"Try drinking again," she said, after he had dried himself, and made no move back towards the cocoa. "Really, it's very good for you. It always cheers me up, no matter how bad I'm feeling."  
  
Well, that was true, Tom thought, remembering the days when he came home from a Death Eater meeting and she would begin screaming at him, for little to no reason (it usually involved taking out the garbage or doing the dishes, though). All he would have to do was conjure up a nice cup of hot cocoa, and all would be forgiven instantly. With an almost invisible roll of the eyes, he picked up the cup and catiously took a sip.  
  
It was thick and rich, and the chocolate flavor seemed to saturate his body, making his toes and fingers tingle pleasantly. "Mmmm," he said. Ginny nodded.  
  
"Chocolate is good," she said. Tom drained his mug.  
  
"Do we have any more?" he asked. Ginny responded with an "Accio!" and a cauldron, filled entirely of cocoa, floated into the room.  
  
"I took the liberty of making a little extra," she said, and dipped the mug into the cauldron. Tom grinned.  
  
An hour later, the cocoa was entirely gone.  
  
"I want more chocolate."  
  
"We're out." Tom pouted. Ginny wondered randomly what the Death Eaters would think if they saw their cold, soulless leader sulking over lack of chocolate.  
  
"I want more chocolate." Uh-oh. Evil Handsome Dark Lord on a chocolate binge? Whatever the outcome, Ginny was fairly sure it would be interesting. "Don't we have that big vat of syrup upstairs?"  
  
"Tom, that's for when we play snake and chamber."  
  
He looked at Ginny, and then at his watch. "You said we could play snake and chamber later. It's later now." he looked at her seductively.  
  
"Oh, all right," Ginny said, throwing her mug aside and heading for the cabinet where they kept the whips and handcuffs.  
  
"Can we use the chocolate syrup, too?"  
  
"Only if the basilisk says yes," she winked, and Tom grinned.  
  
"I like chocolate." 


End file.
